One of my many day jobs is working at a trigger point therapy clinic downtown in the loop.
Think massage on steroids. This stuff is for the people that believe surgery is 90% of the time unnecessary and doctors 90% wrong and chiropractics (ha!) is 90% ineffective and therefore 100% inefficient.
The thing about working at a clinic with a team of certified massage therapists is that you always want to ask for a massage, but you never do.
I mean, this must be the story of their life:
“Ah, my back hurts so much!” says cousin Sue dramatically.
Cousin Sue gives a pathetic longing look in the direction of Certified-Massage-Therapist X.
Certified-Massage-Therapist X feels obliged and gives pathetic Cousin Sue another free back massage.
Every family reunion. Every late-night outing. Car trips. Dinner dates. Who cares how inappropriate the setting may be. Who doesn’t want–no, NEED–a back rub? How about a back rub to reverse the odds you’ll need surgery? Heck ya!
It was a bad day at the superpower clinic though, yesterday was.
I’ve pinpointed four possible causes.
(1) Because when is post-Thanksgiving ever fun? (I ate a lot of food AND got older. Birthday blues?)
(2) Because I’m in the process of, yet again, sorting through ‘big’ future decisions and yep, it’s stressful, and no, I’m not any better at deciding things.
(3) Because I need to drink more water. (I feel like this is always to blame for everything. True?)
and (4) Because a sudden death in my hometown and church family is very much on my mind. One minute she’s eating breakfast, about to be released from the hospital, the next, she’s gone. Similar to others I’ve spoken with from home, the news of her passing was so tragic and unexpected that we feel as if the holiday oomph was zapped from inside us.
And so I showed up at the office on Michigan Avenue with a pounding headache that was nearing 24-hours strong and four seemingly legit reasons as to why.
As the therapists buzzed about, I imagined myself in a squeaky voice finally having the courage to speak up from behind my desk:
“Please, please m’lady, would you fix my head?”
And that’s pretty much what happened.
It got so bad that I gave in and asked a therapist before she could escape on her break.
Of course, she was more than willing to help me out. She pushed around on my neck and showed me where my headache was stemming from and how to treat myself.
Then she worked on my back a bit, giving my hips a squeeze.
“Oh, you have a small hemipelvis,” she noted. One side is higher than the other. This can lead to headaches.”
“When you sit, you need to sit on something on just your left side, to balance yourself out, or you’re going to continue to have problems.”
Before she left to go out the door, she handed me a magazine from the rack.
“Here, sit on this. Just under your left butt cheek.”
Did you know Chris Hemsworth is now the sexiest man in the world? That’s what PEOPLE Magazine is saying. I stole a glance at the article heading and his sparkly ocean-blue eyes before I sat on his face.
The therapist left.
The day went on.
I sat on Chris Hemsworth all day, I drank more water, my headache eventually subdued.
And nothing really changed.
(Except I guess my small hemipelvis didn’t get worse.)
I was still thinking. Thinking about my reason #4.
Thinking that life is really stupid short.
Which makes me think that if you aren’t doing what you want to be doing right now, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it.
Is it just me, or this counter-cultural? Doesn’t this goes against so much of what the world says?
At least it seems that way as I walk amidst gleaming skyscrapers and dapper-suited folks downtown.
It’s all about hard work, more work, whatever it takes, work, work, whatever you need to do, work, until you get to the top.
But then what? What’s up there?
Can someone tell me?
And what’s the alternative? Because the “Merry Christmas” e-mail my student loan company just plopped into my e-mail inbox felt a lot less merry and a lot more like a scary reminder that I owe them my soul.
I’m curious to hear if anyone has any feedback. Leave me a comment?
I’m going to work on my problems #1-3 and just wait for you to get back to me.
Me, a very-clearly brand-new 24-year old.
Oh, and word to the wise, check that hemipelvis of yours!